How Could I Forget?

I saw this cover on AAR this morning and thought, "I'd like to read that book.  Wasn't the sample on my Kindle recently?"  As I read the review, the book sounded familiar, really familiar, like I'd discussed the plot with my husband in the last couple of months.  Then I saw the review signature.  I was reading my review of The Final Line by Kendall McKenna; that was my signature at the bottom of the review!

And that's the life of a book reviewer who reviewed a huge number of books in a couple of weeks in order to take non-review books on vacation.

I currently have nine print galleys and five e-galleys on my Kindle to read and review.  Four reviews have a due date of October 1 while the others will be written as I finish reading the galleys.  I also have two samples on my Kindle of books that I might review.  We'll see.

When people ask me what I'm currently reading I often don't know.  Titles don't stick with me, but plots do.  After the first two paragraphs of my review of The Final Line, I fondly remembered the book since I was intrigued at how McKenna would resolve his soldier's PTSD issues.  And because the book doesn't paint a "love conquers all, especially PTSD" picture, I highly recommend it to readers.

PTSD Written Realistically

Love conquers all, right?  Not when we're talking psychological damage, I don't think.  Fortunately, Aundrea Singer seems to agree with me, given the gritty romance in Black Hawk Tattoo.  (My review of the book went live today at AAR, All About Romance.)

As I read through the book, learning how supportive Gabe was to Jake, I had this horrible feeling that I was going to have to suspend belief and think that Jake's acute case of PTSD was going to be "cured" by Gabe's love.  And while I really, really wish that were true, I know from experience--particularly from my experience with my cousin Jerry who was severely wounded in the Vietnam war--that love doesn't conquer all.

The torment Jake's sister Alice goes through is the torment my Aunt Mary Claire and Uncle Jerry went through with their son, my cousin.  Unfortunately, in the mid 1960s, support services for returning vets with PTSD weren't really available, and suffering on the part of the vets and their families was the norm.

Fortunately, this is a love story, so there is a happy ending.  It may not be the fairytale ending we'd all like, but it's happier than the one my cousin Jerry had since he never found his Gabe and died much too young.